


Always by your Side

by polaroid15



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath, Broken Bones, Fluff, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, They need sleep lol, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26608669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaroid15/pseuds/polaroid15
Summary: After another messy battle, Tony Stark wakes up in the aftermath to a familiar face.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 26
Kudos: 179





	Always by your Side

Tony came back to the land of the living slowly. 

It was as if he were suspended in deep black water, his limbs numb and heavy. Internally, he knew he couldn’t move them, though his mind felt too disconnected to even make the attempt. Above him, through the murkiness, a pinprick of light. The surface. 

Now, he’s floating. Drifting. The light grows brighter, bigger. It hurts his eyes. He shuts them. Opens them. Blurry shapes come into view, just beyond the break of the water. There’s framed photographs of old, expensive cars. The edged shape of a blinking machine. The end of a bed, dressed in soft blue sheets. 

He blinks again, longer, and feeling creeps back into his bones like a low tide. He’s still blissfully numb, but there’s more clarity. He can move his fingers and flex his toes. It’s slow. 

Then, like a camera lens being interchanged, his vision clears. His surroundings come into sharp focus, and so do his memories. The breath catches in his chest as he becomes increasingly aware, causing a blip to sound from the machine beside him. 

Typical. Medbay. 

He doesn’t feel the pain, but he sees a cast on his arm and an IV in his hand. He doesn’t feel the bandages wrapped around his torso either, but if he remembers the knife that had slipped between his ribs correctly, he knows they’re there too. 

God, he hates the smell of medbay. He hates the man who landed him here. He hates himself for not being good enough to leave the fight unscathed. He hates being alone.

Except he’s not, and when Tony slowly realizes this too, his breath hitches again. 

Peter Parker himself is slumped over his hospital bed, fast asleep, his right hand only inches away from Tony’s left. He’s bending awkwardly from a cheap folding chair, knees pressed against the mattress and his face buried in his right arm. His left is in a tight sling. From the skin that Tony can see, there’s a dark bruise on his cheekbone and blood on his knuckles. There’s crimson in his hair. Tony resists the urge to run his hand through it. 

His heart wrenches. He didn’t see the kid much during the battle, and he wonders distantly how he got his newest collection of injuries. Was it before Tony went down, or after? Maybe he didn’t want to know. 

The clock on the wall tells him it’s almost three in the morning. He has no idea how long he’s been asleep, or how long the kid has been slouched over like a ragdoll. Still groggy, he processes the information and weighs his options. It’s like pushing a square block through a circular hole, and it’s 3:15 by the time he makes a decision. 

“Hey, Pete.” At first, Tony’s voice cracks. He coughs against the disuse and again wonders how long he’s been checked out. His left hand twitches out, poking Peter’s good arm softly. “Petey Pie. C’mon kid. Wake up.” 

In true Parker fashion, Peter stays stubbornly asleep. However, his eyebrows pull together, and Tony knows he’s making progress. 

“Earth to Spidey.” He gives the kid a more forceful nudge. 

Slowly, Peter’s eyes open. They stare sightlessly for a moment, as Tony’s sure he’s making sense of his surroundings before coherence floods in and he shoots up like a rocket, nearly falling out of his chair and kicking his shin harshly against the bed frame. It gives Tony a heart attack. 

“Woah! Jeez kid, dramatic much?” 

Peter’s soft brown, bambi eyes lock on his own, and Tony can almost see the relief that pools in them. The young boy lets out a great gust of air as if he’d had it locked in his chest the whole night, and drops his head back to the sheets. Tension Tony didn’t notice before leaks from the hero’s shoulders. 

“You’re ‘k.” Peter’s first words are muffled by the bedspread. He lifts his head, smiling widely and looking disoriented. “I was worried ‘bout you M’Stark.” 

Tony huffs out a laugh, but inside his heart is melting. Peter’s eyes are a tad unfocused, and Tony places his hand on his arm, trying to ground him. For a moment, he is pulled back to the countless, painful memories where their roles are reversed and it’s Peter sitting in Tony’s place. “You’re the kid. It’s not your job to be worried, it’s mine. Speaking of which, you look terrible. How hard did you hit your head?” 

Smile widening, Peter shrugged. “Bruce said I was lucky my brain stayed on the inside.” 

“Jesus kid.” Tony rubbed his thumb unconsciously into the worn fabric of Peter’s flannel. It, too, was spotted with old blood. “Why aren’t you in bed?” 

Peter’s smile dropped, and so did his eye contact. “Like I said, I was worried ‘bout you. Wanted to make sure nothin’ else happened.” When Tony was silent, Peter continued, more softly. “You took a big hit, sir. I’m glad you're okay.” 

Tony could feel the corner of his mouth turn up into a soft smile. God, this kid would be the death of him. He moved his hand down to Peter’s and grasped it firmly. “Thanks for staying with me, Pete.” 

Peter smiled back, stretching a cut in his lip. His response was genuine, but equally quiet. “You’d do the same for me.” 

Nodding his affirmative, Tony settled back down into his pillows. All his energy was spent. “Are you planning on going to your own bed tonight, underoos?” 

Peter yawned, popping his back and then settling his head back under his good arm. “Too far. Comfy here. ‘Sides, I wanna be the first one to sign your cast.” 

“Whatever you say. But no complaining about your neck tomorrow.” 

“Yessir.” 

Tony sank back into the water, but this time, it was different. The last thing he heard was Peter’s long, even breaths by his side. Both would sleep soundly, tonight. 

By the next morning, Peter was gone, but he didn’t neglect to leave something behind. On the top of his cast, true to his promise, was a small ironman suit drawn in bright red marker. Behind the sketched figure, spelled out as if in webs, was three words. "World's best dad." 

Tony stares at it for hours. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! My first fic :) Thanks for reading!


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